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The support from Fatsecret members has been so very helpful to me. I felt so alone and was very grateful for the warm responses. Even though I don't name each of you individually to thank you, I read, and reread your comments and support.
I needed a break from the calorie counting, reporting on my “FS Challenge,” reading, and writing on FS. Is it my addictive personality that I was spending so much time on here? Although it's true I need to concentrate steadily on dieting or I wander away, when I am being strict, it's a little hard for me to understand binges. But then when I am away from the straight and narrow, I lose control, again. How to live “with” dieting, and how to live “without” it, still escapes me. Moderation totally eludes me. In maintenance shouldn't we be able to have a piece of fruit or a glass of wine, some others do. But once I start, it's a slippery slope, and I'm back having sweets (and the glass of wine). So incongruous. I see a picture in my mind of an oily metal slide, about a hundred feet long and very wide. Let's remember the saying "Suffer the pain of DISCIPLINE or suffer the pain of REGRET".
It was emotionally exhausting and time consuming for me to share my hurts last time. When my husband backs off and doesn't yell (or raise his voice in anger) at me for a couple of days or so, my emotions settle down and I am more peaceful. If his rants are daily, or many times a day like today, I hardly have a chance to regain my equilibrium. If only I weren't so overly sensitive. It's hard living with someone who is mad at you all the time.
In response to some of the issues that came up in comments to my long expression of hurt over my anniversary dinner I will take them one at a time. In retrospect about the dinner itself I decided I was way too co-dependent, and I should have just asked him if we could share the pasta dish. I might have apologized that maybe I misunderstood that we were going to share, and see what his response would be. I decided that if I had it to do over again, I would not order another pasta dish since it would have been another $40.00 with tax and tip; he would have been done eating, and it would have been too much food for me anyway after sharing the calamari, then having dessert. But I should have sweetly asked him if he “would” share, since I had thought that is what we were going to do. I would have gotten “direction” from him, now wouldn't I?
We did talk about it a little a day or two later. He did apologize but funny thing is, not for leaving me with no dinner/entree. Maybe he still doesn't “get” it. He apologized that he was “off” and not himself, and for getting tense with me while driving to the restaurant, and for being in a bit of a daze the rest of the day. I am now saying to myself, I will need to “watch out for myself” better and be prepared to take care of myself. This is a slow learning process for me since when he is nasty, I revert to co-dependent. Maybe I was a little disappointed there was no card, flowers, or gift. But I didn't expect any because that's his way: for birthdays, anniversaries, and Christmas. Maybe 5% of the time (or less) I received one or more of those things. I guess it still pinches a little.
This will be a stab at an explanation for my relationship to clothes and addressing the idea that my over abundance of clothes might have a financial downside to it. I wrote part of this the other day, and then couldn't find it tonight. I am a little shaky right now, since it is morning and I have been up all night, being upset at being repeatedly yelled at, or partly just having my husband mad at me.
Money was seldom an issue to me because I have either gotten them free, as hand -me-downs mainly from my sister in law, my clothing business, thrift stores like Goodwill and Salvation Army, and garage sales. My neighborhood thrift store, with their color coding like Goodwill, would reduce 1/6 of their inventory to half price on Friday and Saturday, then further reduce those to 3 for !.00 on Sunday (plus the next weeks color would be ½ price). I've shared that my sister in law was a shopaholic and would average giving me about 75 tops or more, plus sweaters, pants (maybe up to 30) and an average of 20 or more shoes which I could not wear, each year for quite a few years. I gave much to the pastor's wife, the Walter Hoving Home which used to be the women's arm of Teen Challenge, and to be given away at our church's 2 food ministries.
As a child I liked ruffles and being thin could easily wear them. I danced on stage at about ages 5 to 7 and was broken hearted when my parents chose to end it. They didn't like it when a talent scout approached them about promoting me. Shirley Temple was about 18 or 20 years old by then, and they were looking for a new child star. My dancing, curls, and outspoken manner were assets.
My father rejected me thinking he was doing a favor to my mother so I would cling to her, since she was so insecure, plus he felt I was getting too much attention from the age of 5 on. It was beyond my understanding why he wouldn't have anything to do with me.
Both of my parents came from Midwest farming families. In those days before TV, communities made their own fun with parades, parties, plays, etc. the women made costumes in addition to many of their own clothes, and my mother sewed beautifully. She always made my costumes, and most of my clothes. My relatives always did what they called needlework, and did much of their embroidery and quilt making for gifts. Pillowcases were always beautiful. Even when she worked at Bullocks later, she would always buy extremely beautiful lace tablecloths for gifts, especially weddings. I had 51 first cousins, plus there were always people at church getting married or having babies.
My parents moved to California before I was born, because of my dad's bad back. Immediately he was out of work for a year. They rented out the 2 upstairs bedrooms of our small house to make ends meet, and the 5 of us (including grandma) slept in the dining room. Good thing my mom could sew. We had “enough” clothes, plus maybe a bit of flair, but they were never a priority.
I was a very lonely little girl. We lived in an older neighborhood and I had to come straight home after school. I was given a doll house at about age 11, when my mother started working, but was really too old for it. I had no one to play with so would just move the furniture around. My parents didn't talk much to each other, so my “man and woman” dolls never knew what to say to each other. My parents or my older sister never played with me. By the time I was 4, my sister was heavy set, and seemed to hate me. At around 10, someone gave me a set of used paper dolls, but these were very nontraditional. The girls looked like Rita Hayworth, and absolutely all the clothes, dozens and dozens of them were “only” ball gowns. I spent all my alone time, just changing ball gowns. My mom, working in the most exclusive shop in Bullocks, dressed very well, and brought home some bargains occasionally.
I attended Los Angeles High School and between Spring and Fall classes there were 1000, to 1200 graduating each year. My older sister said many of the sorority clubs wanted to know how many cashmere sweater sets you had. The women's and teen arms of the philanthropist clubs wore formals regularly. After age 12 we attended a very large church in LA that had many wealthy people. I dressed nice, but was troubled, and never felt accepted or even comfortable with myself. Looking nice became a crutch for me, and helped me feel more acceptable. I don't know why I took a turn for the worse about age 12, maybe the hormones of getting my period, or my dad starting to massage my breasts so they would grow. I was unacceptable the way I was. I was usually sick all summer long, every summer till I was 18, with strep and bad tonsils. I remember at age 14 my dad dispairaged my long hair as I sang in the choir.
When I was 15, I was allowed to go out with my sister who was 19 then. She was a bad infuluence on me, although she did protect me from the guys ever making a pass at me. She made me dress like a twin to her to be allowed to go out with her. I hated it, but had no choice. She was heavy, and thought if we dressed like twins, dragging Hollywood Blvd. for sailors, and other service men we would attract more attention. I couldn't wait to turn 16, and be allowed to date and go out without her.
In my marriage, money was very tight. Other than 3 dresses my mother bought for me at Bullocks, I made all my own maternity clothes, Sewing became a creative outlet plus a way to get things I couldn't buy, like curtains, drapes, bedspreads, and altering clothing finds from thrifts stores, and hand-me-downs. Etc. I used to put my children's hems up and down as they grew, just to have something creative to do. After 4 years of marriage, our relationship became “poor”.
When I was 28, I cared for my dying mother in our home. Cooking her 3 hot meals a day, I put on weight. After she died, for the rest of my life I yo-yo dieted, so accumulated more clothes for all the sizes I would go through regularly. I found that when I was dieting I needed to continually focus on it. It became my big concentration, and focusing on clothes helped me do that. I became a bargain shopper, at stores, estate sales, and garage sales, and I would sew or tailor everything to just keep working on them. We bought this home in 1971, and I have 2 attics to keep extra clothes. Since I might go up 5 sizes one year, and go down 5 sizes the next year, I would keep most of the clothes that I “might” wear at sometime in the future. As I became more unhappy, the sewing and hoping for the future to be able to wear these things became my friend and outlet. I didn't have “ball-gowns” like my paper dolls, but it had that “air” about it: playing house alone, and hoping for the future. Hoping I would look better, be better, and that my life would be better. My therapist said I would buy a garment to “fix” it, because I knew what to do with it, and knew I could fix it, and wasn't able to fix anything else in my life. It was a control issue, I could control it, when everything else in my life was uncontrollable.
I've written about not having a coat or heavy jacket for nearly 10 years. I had worn holes in the elbows of my fabric coat I had when we married. If I had known it would not be replaced for so long I would have bought elbow patches for it. Then there was the fake fur that had big patches worn off and bare. My sister- in- law gave a hand me down heavy jacket to my daughter when she was 13. It was too big for her, but beautiful for a car coat, so I didn't want her to wear it to Junior High, for fear of it getting lost, stolen or even just dirty. I wore it several times, and my daughter resented it, and me, exceedingly. But she had a coat, plus a jacket for school, and I was cold. She couldn't or wouldn't understand.
My husband wanted me to buy a coat that I could wear for all purposes. Like over a long dress, going to a dance at the Masons, plus every other purpose. We looked for something to satisfy both of us but it eluded us. There weren't that many size 4, and something dressy like he wanted, easily overpowered me. He finally said in frustration, I could buy a coat for up to $600.00, but it had to fit every purpose. We looked at many fur coats with fir collars. None satisfied him. Year after year, our outings consisted of shopping for a coat for me. He really wanted fur, but that doesn't work well for daytime. I asked if I could please buy one coat for 100.00 plus a car coat for casual or sport. He said no, only one. I found a very impractical one I fell in love with but he wouldn't let me buy it: white suede with a fir collar for $125.00. At the time I was blinded by it's beauty, but he was right. What could be more impractical than white suede? He did not realize what brownie points he could have made with my heart. Of course you see, I needed a car coat too, to wear with pants.
After another several years I finally found a beautiful fabric coat with a fur collar at Penny's for $69.00. Even though it was wool, with the fir collar it was dressy enough to wear over a long dress to the dances we were going to with the Mason's, yet being fabric I could wear it for church. Now, it too, was just one step up in the practical department, because it was again white. But since it was so low priced, how could he refuse? The collar was probably average size but probably looked bigger than average on me, being small. Maybe it was fox? He said no, I couldn't have it, because I looked like a Las Vegas show girl in it. I was heart broken. Something died in me, after I had been so thrilled. I stopped looking at coats for several years. I wore my daughter's hand me down a few times, wore a sweater during the day, and froze with the long dresses. My body being cold wasn't as hurt and cold as my heart. To be continued...
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47.9 kg
Lost so far: 6.0 kg.
Still to go: 0 kg.
Diet followed: Poorly.
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Losing 2.4 kg a Week
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